


How My Heart Behaves

by Siria



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s04e16 Trio, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-10
Updated: 2008-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-03 19:50:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney sways into John's room at half-past Atlantean midnight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How My Heart Behaves

**Author's Note:**

> Episode coda for 4.16, 'Trio.' For Cate, whom nine out of ten studies have shown to be 'awesome.'

Rodney sways into John's room at half-past Atlantean midnight. The city's night-time glow is dimmed by the three bright moons high in the sky, and Rodney knows he should be back in his own room, crawling into his own bed. He doesn't know why he came here; it's late and he's tired and someone might see them. It's a risk John rarely wants to take.

But one beer with Keller had turned into five or six with Ronon, clinking their bottles together in the mess hall while Ronon slapped Rodney's back, grateful that he'd helped Keller get back in one piece. Six, seven, eight beers; and alcohol and painkillers and sheer exhaustion have left Rodney hollowed out, still feeling the phantom weight of two lives pressing down across the span of his shoulders, and his head echoes only with the thoughts of an endless drop and with John's name.

The door closes silently behind him, and Rodney toes out of his boots and his socks, walking on feet that are decidedly less silent to the narrow bed where John's lying. When Rodney settles on his side next to him, he sees that John's still awake, eyes dark and watchful. Part of Rodney wonders, fuzzily, if John's been waiting for him long. It's seemed like such a long day.

"Hi," Rodney whispers over-loudly, prodding John until he rolls onto his back and lets Rodney rest his head against the comfortable curve of John's shoulder. "'m maybe a lil' drunk." He hiccups, warm beer breath trapped in the small space they've created between their bodies, and he wrinkles his nose.

"Uh huh," John says wryly, but he slings an arm over Rodney's waist anyway, a warm weight that Rodney welcomes, wriggling into it with a happy sigh. "You didn't come find me," John says after a pause.

"Mmpfh?" Rodney says intelligently. John's stubble tickles Rodney's temple when he talks.

"You were hurt. You didn't come find me afterwards. The infirmary." John's hand, resting on Rodney's belly, is warm through the cotton of Rodney's t-shirt, and John's fingers are stroking lightly at the hint of skin where the hem has ridden up. It's a soothing scratch of callused fingertips over Rodney's skin, and he gives himself up to it, listens to the way it makes John's breathing hitch and change.

"S'okay," Rodney says expansively; he is feeling oddly generous with the world tonight. "I had to buy Keller a keg 'fore could come back. And I am on a _lot_ of painkillers right now, so I am feeling nooooo pain."

"Shh," John says, shifting so that he can take one of Rodney's hands in each of his. He lowers his head and presses a kiss to each broad, bandaged palm, careful enough not to hurt; kisses Rodney's fingertips, and the fine bones of his wrists, and says, "Should always come find me." His voice is a hoarse whisper, as if what he's saying is something urgent, something Rodney should know.

"Mmmpfh," Rodney mumbles, "_John_, did, I do", because it's urgent somehow that John should know these things, too. He wriggles closer so that they're pressed as tightly together as they should be, bellies touching on each slow exhale; Rodney's warmer than he's been all day, here in a city that's held up between sea and sky, not pulled down beneath damp clay, and he lets himself go with a sigh.

Right before he falls asleep, he can feel John kiss him one last time, the faintest touch of lips running carefully across one hand: tracing the marks where the rope had cut so deep when Rodney was trying to keep Keller safe; tracing the life-line that Rodney still keeps safe for him, folded and creased within the curve of his palm; and their legs tangle close when they sleep.


End file.
